I’m currently reading Julie and Julia.

At first I thought the whole blog cooking project was unoriginal and lame. Who cares about what a 29 year old secretary in New York cooks every day?

On the other hand, I must give snaps to a woman who carved the marrow out of the inside of a bone with a paring knife. (My girl-power side says Yeah girl! My vegetarian side says Shame!) At any rate, I really identify with Julie Powell. (I think this is the point – if she weren’t a universally relatable character, being a 29 year old secretary with a blog and all, she wouldn’t have had a movie made after her blog) Her task of completing Julia Child’s entire French cooking cookbook of 524 recipes in 365 days is a rather brave adventure in the context of a domestic; some might even say mundane, life.

Isn’t it the small, daily parts of life that we treasure the most? (A day off? A cigarette on the balcony? Sneaky Dees nachos?)

The excruciating task of extracting bone fluid from a carcass was apparently well worth it, as Julie describes the marrow sauce as like eating good sex.

This makes my stomach turn a little. But it goes to show that even the most ordinary tasks can have awesome rewards.

This blog I recently checked out had a poll to see how many times per week Torontonians eat out. The majority said 1-3 times per week. But I think they’re lying. I have a hunch that eating out kicks cooking’s ass in Toronto. And it’s a shame.

That said, you can count on me NOT making Coq au Vin or Beef Bourguignon anytime soon. But I sure do admire those who do take on such ventures.